


It's All In The Name

by Haggledore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Harry Potter, Drama, Gay Draco Malfoy, Language, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, occasional homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haggledore/pseuds/Haggledore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are not friends since the day they met in their first year and that's the way it should be. But unfortunate incidents and unforeseen obstacles force them further and further into each other's lives and, though Harry may appear unfazed by this, these unusual occurances might just be the catalyst for a change of heart that neither of them are quite prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Third Year - Complications Arise

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows basic canon and begins when the characters are in third year. I will be combining events from both the books and the films with my own additions in order to tell this story so some key canon events may be missed and some facts simply ignored to be able to make this plot work. I hope you enjoy...

Shabby clothes. Old briefcase. Greying hair. Draco Malfoy didn’t like the look of his new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in the least. As the class filed into the room, the man recently introduced to them as Professor Lupin stood at the front of the class with a small smile on his face. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the gesture and settled himself at the very back of the class with Crabbe and Goyle taking seats either side of him. 

Just as his classmate were beginning to settle down Lupin spoke. “Put your books away please. Today will be a practical lesson.” 

An excited buzz arose at the pronouncement and there was a sudden flurry of activity as everyone shoved their books away and drew their wands. Lupin led them out of the room away from their classroom, heading in the direction of the staff room. On the way he wowed them with an excellent display of lodging chewing gum up Peeves’ nostril and, despite his scepticism of his new professor, Malfoy couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. He filed the spell away knowing that he’d definitely find a use for it someday. 

They reached the staff room and the students were practically bouncing up and down in anticipation. The room only had one occupant, Severus Snape. As he swept out of the room, making one last snide comment to Lupin, he met Malfoy’s eye for the briefest of moments. Malfoy wasn’t sure why but the action felt like a warning. 

Lupin stepped to the front and announced that they would be tackling a boggart. Hermione impressed them all with her knowledge of the magical creature, as they all expected her to do. Even Harry spoke up to answer a question, although it wasn’t by choice, Lupin just happened to pick on him. Malfoy loitered at the back, listening but not engaging especially not when they were forced to repeat the incantation childishly before they were even allowed to draw their wands. 

To everyone’s surprise it was Neville who was to begin the proceedings. The class burst into fits of laughter when he announced that his biggest fear was Professor Snape and the wardrobe the boggart had lodged itself in shook violently. Their laughter increased dramatically when Neville cried Riddikulus and Snape’s usual black robes were transformed into the unflattering outfit of his grandmother. They howled with delight and the second person was called up to have their turn. 

Malfoy shoved his way into the line so that only a few students could have their turns before he took his. Lupin had told them to have their biggest fear held in their mind but Malfoy thought and thought but nothing stood out as a specifically terrifying. He liked spiders, snakes were one of his favourite animals, dementors were creepy but he still didn’t think that they were his biggest fear. As the line dwindled one thought did come to mind. He forced it down and braced himself, tightening his grip on his wand. He conjured up the image of a Giant, at least 50ft. Though not his biggest fear if it was standing in front of him he certainly wouldn’t be able to remain calm. 

Believing that the thought of this fear alone would be enough to cover up his even greater fears, he took up his place in front of the class and raised his wand. The boggart, that had previously taken the form of a jack-in-the-box, suddenly disappeared. The classes murmured amongst themselves about its absence when it reappeared in the form of Malfoy. 

That was certainly different. Malfoy’s biggest fear was himself? That didn’t make any sense. The class started to titter at that but Lupin hushed them. A few seconds passed and then someone else appeared out of the wardrobe. Their face was blurred, unidentifiable. However, the class could see the newcomer was male. The boggart Malfoy and the stranger squared up to each other, moving closer and closer until - 

The class collectively gasped. 

Malfoy, the real one, froze as his counterpart placed a kiss on the blurred man’s lips. It wasn’t long before the two men were thoroughly engaged. Lips, tongues, small sighs of pleasure. Malfoy couldn’t move. The class was deathly quiet. Lupin moved to step in but, as he did, another figure appeared out of the wardrobe. Lucius Malfoy. 

He stepped down slowly, surveying the muttering students, wrinkling his nose at the darkened room and Lupin’s shabbiness. Then he caught sight of boggart Draco and the boggart stranger. The harsh sound of his heels echoing as he approached the pair. Boggart Draco separated himself from the stranger and they both simply ceased to exist, disappearing into a wisp of smoke. 

The class watched with bated breath as boggart Lucius now focused his attention on the real Draco who had still not moved a muscle since the scene had begun. Stopping a metre away from his son, boggart Lucius gave him a look of disgust. When he spoke the harshness of his voice made Draco flinch. 

“That’s what you spend your time doing, is it? Playing around with other boys? I’m disgusted with you. What would your mother say if she knew? We’ve raised you well, in a stable pureblood family, we found you a good pureblood girl to marry, and this is how you repay us.” The more he spoke, the faster the words came. “Abhorrent! I will not tolerate it under my roof. Never. Pack your bags and don’t ever come back. You are not to speak to your mother or I again, don’t try to contact us, write letters. Nothing.” The words started to jumble together, becoming incoherent fragments. They built and built until it was a torrent. An onslaught of hate. “Get out. Go! Never come back. Vile. As disgusting as the mudbloods. You’re dead to us.” 

Draco spoke feebly, “But I’m your son.” 

He was barely able to finish speaking before Lucius roared over him. “YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE!” 

The ordeal came to an abrupt end. Lupin stepped in between them and Lucius dissolved into what appeared to be a crystal ball. “Riddikulus,” he said, raising his wand. The crystal ball became a balloon that whizzed around the room and back into the wardrobe. He turned to face an exceptionally pale Malfoy. “Draco?” He spoke tentatively. 

Draco stared at the closed door of the wardrobe for a few more seconds before taking a step back. Then two. In a flash he was out the door and off down the corridor leaving Lupin calling helplessly after him. 

***** 

Harry Potter had been looking forward to his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson all day. Professor Lupin was an excellent teacher and actually managed to make education fun. There had been a rumour going round that they were having a practical lesson today and, sure enough, after they entered the classroom, they were asked to pack their books away. 

They were led down corridor after corridor until they reached the staffroom where Snape flounced out of the room in his usual dramatic manner that no one was impressed by. (Well maybe Draco Malfoy, who had some weird obsession with the man). 

Boggarts sounded interesting enough albeit slightly disconcerting. As he listened to Hermione babble on about them, answering question after question of Lupin’s, Harry couldn’t help but worry about what his boggart would turn into. He was so lost in his concerns that he didn’t even hear when he was asked a question. Only after an elbow in the ribs from Ron did he splutter out the answer, rubbing the ache on his side. Luckily his sparse answer was satisfying enough to Lupin as their professor asked no more questions and instead ordered them to form a line ready to tackle the boggart one at a time. Neville was to go first. Trembling from head to foot, he approached the rattling wardrobe and for a moment Harry was distracted from his own feelings of trepidation to feel sorry for him. 

He nudged Ron and Hermione. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said. 

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked. “You’re going to miss everything!” 

“Toilet,” he replied. 

His need to go wasn’t particularly strong but better safe than sorry. At least the break from the class room would give him some extra time to collect himself before he had to tackle the boggart himself. Every time he tried to think about his biggest fear Lord Voldemort popped into his head and he really didn’t want him to appear in the middle of the staffroom, particularly as he couldn’t think of any way to make him amusing. 

On his way back from the bathroom he pondered the subject. Perhaps he could give him elephant ears or cause him to trip on his cloak and fall on his awfully evil face. Maybe give him an afro. At that Harry laughed to himself but was swiftly cut off by the staffroom door swinging open and Malfoy running off past him down the corridor. Completely bewildered Harry turned back to the door to see Lupin standing there watching the receding figure disappear round the corner. 

“Professor, what happened?” Harry asked him. 

“I can’t leave the class, Harry, can you go after him please? Make sure he is okay.” 

Before Harry could protest Lupin was gone and the door to the staffroom was firmly shut. Muttering to himself, he followed the corridors back to the bathroom, guessing that was where Malfoy was hiding himself. 

He opened the door as quietly as possible hoping not to startle Malfoy into jinxing him. As he rounded the corner, he heard a strangled sound from a slumped figure leaning over one of the sinks, white blonde head bowed. The noise came again and Harry’s eyes widened in complete surprise. Oh. My. God. Was Draco Malfoy crying? 

“Piss off Potter!” He said, still with his back to Harry. 

Clearly Harry thought he had been quieter than he actually was. Maybe his surprise at hearing Malfoy crying was so great that his reaction had been audible. 

“Trust me I really don’t want to be here,” Harry replied, more moodily than he actually felt. “Professor Lupin told me to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Well I’m fine so you can go,” Malfoy said, each word laced with bitterness and sorrow. 

“You don’t sound fine.” 

Finally Malfoy turned around and Harry could see the tears still streaking down his face. He scrubbed at them roughly, all the while shooting daggers at Harry. “I don’t need help, especially not from _you!_ Run along back to your lesson, Potter, we wouldn’t want your little friends to worry, would we?” 

Harry didn’t move. He wasn’t exactly sure what was rooting him to the spot but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get his feet to move so much as an inch in any direction. There was something about Malfoy, something distinctly concerning and unusual. It wasn’t everyday that you saw the most arrogant pupil in the school crying, nor was it normal to see him running out of class when he would usually be sucking up every bit of attention he could get. But there was something else. Something completely wrecked about him. His usually neat hair was now ruffled. He looked exhausted both physically and mentally, as though he needed to sit down otherwise he would keel over backward at any moment. 

Though it was the last thing on earth he wanted to do Harry managed to get his feet to move, not however towards the door like he had originally planned, but instead towards Malfoy who was still standing beside the sinks. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You need to sit down because you look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Malfoy said firmly, eyeing Harry’s outstretched hand as though it personally offended him. 

Ignoring his protests, Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the sinks into the centre of the room. “Sit down.” 

Malfoy stared around him then back at Harry as though he was insane. “Where exactly?” Harry gestured to the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“You’re in no state to have high standards right now,” Harry said, looking at Malfoy’s bedraggled appearance. 

With a huff, Malfoy sat down on the thankfully dry bathroom floor followed by Harry who plonked himself ungracefully opposite him. Neither of them spoke for some time, both listening to the drip drip of a tap that hadn’t been turned off properly and the distant screech of owls through the semi-transparent window. They were both startled when a first year bounced through the door. 

“Out!” Malfoy shouted, terrifying the poor boy enough to send him scurrying from the room. 

As the door swung shut behind the child, Harry said, “That wasn’t very nice.” 

“I’m not very nice so I don’t see a problem.” Malfoy sighed. “It’s bad enough having run out of class and crying in front of Harry bloody Potter so I really don’t need anyone else being given ammunition against me.” 

“What happened exactly to make you run out of class?” Malfoy shook his head but Harry continued unperturbed. “And don’t try to get out of not telling me because there is a whole class of people back there that saw the whole thing. Now would you rather I listened to their botched retelling of what happened or would you rather tell me the story yourself?” 

There was a moment of silence as Malfoy thought the offer through, debating both sides of the argument. “Fine I’ll tell you but don’t interrupt.” He waited until Harry responded with a nod for him to continue. “It was my turn to face the boggart and, by the very nature of the creature, it turned into my biggest fear. At the start it turned into me and some random boy and we started to make out-“ 

“Wait your biggest fear is kissing another boy?” Harry asked, incredulous. 

“Don’t interrupt, Potter. I wasn’t finished,” Malfoy hissed, clearly wanting to get the retelling over with as quickly as possible. “So this guy and boggart-me are kissing and then my dad steps out of the wardrobe and tells me how disgusting I am before telling me I’m no longer his son and can never go home again. Then Lupin stepped in and I ran for it. The end.” 

“So your biggest fear is-“ Harry began slowly, still attempting to process all the information he had just been given. 

“My family finding out that I’m gay and disowning me. Yes.” 

Harry let out a long whistle. “That really sucks.” 

“Tell me about it,” Malfoy sighed, running his hands through his already ruffled hair. It was then that the hilarity of the whole situation finally set in and he let out short laugh. “This is a complete mess.” 

“It’s a bit ironic really,” Harry said. “You always threaten people with the whole _‘wait till my father hears!’_ thing but for this you can’t complain to him without outing yourself again.” He couldn’t help smiling at that. It really was quite funny. 

“You’re really not helping, Potter.” 

“Sorry,” Harry said, attempting to wipe the smile off his face and failing miserably. 

There was a sudden burst of noise overhead. Chairs scraped as students stood up from their desks, packing their things away ready for the bell that rang only a few seconds later. The tolling overhead signalled that it was lunchtime. It also meant that there was a much higher chance of someone walking in on Harry and Draco sprawled across the boys’ bathroom floor. Both boys realised that this was the end of their short truce. They clambered to their feet, Malfoy brushing off nonexistent dust from his immaculate uniform while Harry ran his hand through his permanently untidy black hair. 

“So...” Harry began. 

“We never speak of this again,” Malfoy said, regaining his proud straight-backed demeanour. A moment before he had been slumped, small, defeated. Now, only a second later, it was hard to believe that Malfoy could ever even be considered vulnerable. “Never.” 

A swift nod from Harry seemed enough confirmation for Malfoy. He picked up his bag from the floor and swung it over his shoulder, exiting the bathroom without a backwards glance, leaving Harry in a state of complete incredulity. 

***** 

The unusual thing about the disastrous Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson was that gossip died out about it pretty quickly. Slytherin’s were proud people and protected their own which could have had something to do with it. But the more likely explanation was Sirius Black. He’d been sighted near Hogwarts and the possibility of the students being brutally murdered in their beds seemed a far more pressing matter than Malfoy’s sexuality. 

It came as some surprise to Harry then when, as he made his way across the entrance hall towards break, he felt a strong pull on his arm. Only when Harry and his apparent kidnapper were safely hidden away inside a broom cupboard was he able to see that the one who had accosted him was in fact Draco Malfoy. 

“I told my mother,” Malfoy said so breathless that Harry thought he had just run a race. 

“W-what?” Harry stuttered, still thoroughly confused. 

“I told my mother that I’m gay. I sent her an owl yesterday and she’s just sent the reply.” 

Cottoning on, Harry said, “That’s great, really great. But why are you telling me and why are we having this conversation in a broom cupboard?” Malfoy ignored his questions completely, far too distracted by the letter clutched in his hands. The seal hadn’t yet been broken. “You haven’t read it?” 

“No,” Malfoy said, leaning against the wall and letting his head drop back to press on the cold bricks. “I mean I want to but-“ 

“You’re scared.” 

“No need to rub it in, Potter!” 

Wanting to calm the situation before it escalated any further, Harry held up his hands as way of apology. Talking to Malfoy was one thing but being locked in a broom cupboard with an emotional Malfoy was something else entirely. Life had certainly taken an interesting and confusing turn since Harry had gone after him that day in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He still hadn’t decided whether that was a good thing or not yet. 

“Fine, okay. Well...do you want me to read it first?” The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he really had a chance to think about them. It was the sudden expression of shock and gratitude on Malfoy’s face that stopped him from regretting his words. 

Wordlessly Malfoy handed over the slightly crumpled envelope to Harry, who took it and carefully broke the seal. He pulled out the piece of paper from within, ignoring Malfoy’s fidgeting beside him, and unfolded the paper. When he was finished reading he refolded the note, placed it back in the envelope and handed it back to Malfoy. 

“Well?” Malfoy demanded. He took the proffered letter but didn’t move his eyes away from Harry’s face. 

“You need to read it,” Harry said in a voice that didn’t give away anything. 

With a grumble and muttered swear Malfoy roughly took out the letter. It took him less than a minute to read the reply. His eyes skimming from line to line at a lightning speed. He looked up at Harry when he reached the end. 

“All that worry for nothing it seems,” Harry smiled. 

Malfoy let out a whoop of laughter, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. “She’s okay! She’s really okay with it. She doesn’t hate me!” He cried joyfully. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen the other wizard this unreservedly happy. Then Malfoy suddenly sobered, this time looking at the letter sadly. “But my father-“ 

“Is a git.” 

“Hey!” 

“Well it’s true!” Harry insisted. “Look, if I was you – and you really don’t need to take my advice at all but – if I was you I’d wait a bit. Your mum’s on your side which is great but she even says herself that he probably won’t be okay with it. Little victories. Be happy that you’ve got your mum...and me, apparently,” he added as an afterthought. 

At that Malfoy stopped to stare at the wizard before him. Finally he seemed to realise how weird this situation was. They were supposed to be enemies, born on opposite sides that would never be able to come together. It was always supposed to be that way from the first moment they met. Slytherin and Gryffindor. They couldn’t be friends. Could they? No, both of them thought to themselves. It would never work, they would drive each other insane, they would never stop bickering, never stop disagreeing, never be without something to say. No, they both agreed. It was better for them both to just walk away from this odd situation and pretend, just like the incident in the bathroom, that it never happened. 

“Yes, well. Thank you, Potter, for...everything.” 

Feeling as though he was being dismissed, Harry nodded. “Don’t mention it. I hope everything works out for you.” 

“You know you’re lucky you don’t have these problems,” Malfoy said, just as Harry’s hand found the doorknob. 

“Yeah well if my parents were alive I might but I think they would be pretty cool with the fact that I’m bisexual. They were good peop-“ 

“What!” Malfoy shouted, forcing himself between Harry and the door to prevent him from leaving. “You’re bi?” 

“Yes,” Harry said bluntly. “Problem?” 

“Wha- No! Why would I? I’m just surprised that’s all.” 

Harry shrugged as if to say ‘whatever, not my problem.’ 

“Do Weasley and Granger know, does anyone know?” 

“Yeah they know,” Harry answered, resting himself back against the wall to create some space between himself and Malfoy as the latter was practically pressed up against him. “I don’t think anyone else knows but to be honest I don’t really care who knows. Last year everyone thought I was attacking innocent people so people finding out I like guys and girls can’t be any worse. Now I don’t mean to cut this short but I really have to go because break ended ages ago and I’m missing Charms.” 

“Right,” Malfoy said, moving out the way to let Harry out of the cupboard. 

He watched Harry sprint up the marble staircase towards his lesson. There was a strange feeling welling up inside of him as the other boy disappeared from view but Draco couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. With a sigh he shut the door of the cupboard and walked off towards the dungeons. 

***** 

The dementors had shown up at a Quidditch game. Harry had fallen roughly 50ft, only being saved by Dumbledore’s quick spell work. He’d woken up in the hospital wing surrounded by his friends and team and feeling completely depressed. His broomstick was in irreparable pieces and they’d lost the game to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff of all teams. Cedric Diggory was nice to offer a rematch but Madam Hooch agreed that rules were rules and Hufflepuff had won fair and square. 

In retaliation Harry was putting all of his efforts into learning the Patronus charm to repel the dementors. It was proving more difficult than he expected, despite Lupin’s warnings that it was an extremely difficult spell. Regardless of the setbacks, Harry had never been more determined. 

Draco was focussed on his studies. Lesson after lesson after lesson. Homework after homework after homework. He was determined to beat that swat Granger’s grade in at least one subject if it was the last thing he’d ever do. 

He had kept his distance from Harry since their last conversation in the cupboard but his gaze couldn’t help but be drawn towards the scrawny boy with messy hair during mealtimes or in the lessons that they shared. There was something about him. Something that Draco couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it made his stomach twitch uncomfortably whenever the other boy spared a glance his way. Even when he was joking with Dean and Seamus, smiling at Ron and Hermione, taking the time to actually listen to Neville. Draco would sneak glances at him secretly hoping that Harry would be looking back. 

He shook his head hard to rid himself of those thoughts turning back to his potion that was not the shade of orange that it should be. Rereading the line of ingredients, he realised he had not stirred his cauldron the correct number of times then left the potion to simmer for exactly three minutes. Great. There went his Outstanding in potions. At least, he thought cruelly, his potion hadn’t curdled like Goyle’s, or turned mint green like Crabbe’s. 

“Disappointing, Malfoy,” Snape tutted, as he made his usual rounds of the dungeon, examining each cauldron in turn. 

At the Gryffindor table he paused for much longer. He sniffed loudly as he passed Hermione’s cauldron, unable to find a single thing to complain about (as usual). There was the usual look of despair from Seamus, who had once again managed to cause his potion to explode just as Snape approached his cauldron. Five points were taken from Gryffindor as punishment. Clearly Harry wasn’t as big a disappointment as usual because the potions master past him by without a word. Extra time, however, was dedicated to his ritual of ridiculing Neville Longbottom. 

The Slytherins laughed along with Snape’s jibes while the Gryffindors hissed and muttered in disapproval. None dared speak out directly though, not unless they wanted a round fifty points being taken from their house. 

Today Draco didn’t feel as part of the drama as normal. He laughed along so no one would question him, but there was something about the way that Harry frowned and looked so hatefully at Snape that prevented Draco from fully enjoying the action. The smile slipped off his face and he felt rotten to the core. 

As Snape sauntered away, satisfied he had crushed Neville enough for the day, he brushed against the boy’s desk knocking his textbook onto the floor with a heavy thud and sending his notes floating away across the dungeon. All the Gryffindors glared at his retreating back. Was it really possible to hate someone this much? Yes, apparently it was. The Slytherins only guffawed harder than ever, packing away their ingredients and cleaning up their areas before exiting the dungeon. 

Neville bent to pick his book up while his gathered up his papers and ordered them into a neat pile. He smiled at them in thanks before rushing out of the room as fast as he could with the rest of the Gryffindors followed closely behind, throwing final death glares at Snape as they left. 

Now only Draco and Snape occupied the dungeon; the Professor behind his desk marking papers, Draco leaning against his desk and frowning. 

“What is it, Draco?” Snape asked eventually. 

“Do you ever think, maybe, that you’re a bit too harsh on Longbottom?” Draco said, knowing his Head of House would not be happy with the question. 

“ You were laughing along before. Don’t tell me you suddenly feel sorry for the whelp?” 

“I just think you went a bit far today, that’s all.” 

“Well,” said Snape, a definite note of iciness in his tone now. “I suggest you take your thoughts elsewhere. It is not up to you to question how I do my job. Are we clear?” 

“Yes, sir,” Draco answered mechanically. 

On his way out of the room, Draco noticed a few sheets of Neville’s notes that he had missed. He scooped them up and slammed the dungeon door shut leaving Snape to his marking. 

The house tables were already heaving with platters full of the most delicious foods as Draco entered into the Great Hall for lunch. Students were still filing in but he made his way through the crowd with ease. He was Draco Malfoy after all. Approaching the Gryffindor table wasn’t quite so easy. He had to deal with all the staring, the legs stuck out with the intent of tripping him, the whispering, the shouted insults. The joys of being a Slytherin. 

All of the third year Gryffindors were sat together either glaring or simply gawking as he stepped up to their table. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown began to whisper excitedly, giggling behind their hands which made it perfectly obvious they were talking about Draco. Dean and Seamus simply shot him filthy looks before tucking into their lunch. Neville visibly paled while Harry, Ron and Hermione just looked on, their faces impassive. 

“I think you’ve got a bit lost, Malfoy. The Slytherin table’s that way,” said Ron, pointing to the other side of the hall. 

“Not at all, Weasel,” Draco snapped back. Turning to Neville, he shoved the papers into the boy’s shaking hand. “Here, these are yours.” 

Neville stared dumbstruck, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to form a single word of reply. Not that Draco expected anything else. He turned to walk away but the sound of Ron Weasley’s voice pulled him back. 

“What did you do to them?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Like are they jinxed? What did you and your Slytherin mates cook up this time?” 

Cottoning on, Draco rolled his eyes. “Be quiet Weasley before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Longbottom didn’t pick up all his notes so I brought them over for him. It’s not complicated.” 

Ron scoffed, exchanging looks with Dean and Seamus. “You expect us to believe that you gave Neville his notes back out of the goodness of your heart.” 

He wanted to walk away. He really did. He’d completed his good deed of the day and got zero thanks for it like he knew he would. Not that it mattered, what was done was done. 

“I don’t care what you believe,” Draco said in a bored voice, examining his immaculate nails. “Because I know that nothing has been done to those notes. They are in the exact condition that Longbottom left them in. Now if you will excuse me, you’re wasting my lunchtime with this inane conversation.” 

As he walked away, he was very much aware of the fact that Harry was one of the many people staring after him. 

***** 

Draco’s behaviour of late was very puzzling to Harry. First they had shared in two very personal conversations and none of those details Harry had shared about himself had gone any further. After coming out to Draco he had expected for the whole school to be buzzing with the news by the end of the day yet it seemed that the only people that knew still were just his closest friends and Draco. The second occurrence that had Harry doubting everything he had come to know and assume about the Slytherin was his behaviour towards Neville. He’d noticed how Draco had barely laughed when Snape attacked Neville, and was even more surprised when he had approached them at lunch to give Neville his notes back. That was so very un-Draco. 

This was all that filled his head on his long walk towards Hogsmeade. Dwelling on this at least helped distract him from his confusion over the Marauders map and his sudden discovery that there were secret passages that led right into the magical village. 

He became distracted, however, when the passage suddenly rose and he smacked his head against a solid wooden panel. Said wooden panel turned out to be a trap door that led him into the basement of Honeydukes. Quietly, he crept through the storeroom being careful not to knock anything over, until he entered into the main shop. He located Ron and Hermione almost straight away, gathered round the sweets with more ‘exotic’ flavours. 

“Harry!” Hermione cried out upon seeing him. “How did you get here?” 

“Whoa,” Ron said. “You know how to apparate.” 

Quieting them both quickly so as not to draw too much attention to themselves, he explained Fred and George giving him the Marauders map and how it documented all the secret passages out of Hogwarts. Ron wasn’t particularly pleased to hear that his brothers hadn’t divulged this secret to him first but in the end he came around. 

Hogsmeade was freezing. Out in the packed street, Harry drew his thin jacket further around himself but it did nothing to protect him from the bitterly cold wind. In the end Hermione saved them with the suggestion that they get a drink in the Three Broomsticks. 

It was there that everything went wrong. 

At the sound of loud adult voices, Harry was shoved unceremoniously under their table just in time to not be seen by a number of his professors and the Minister of Magic himself. They sat grouped around a table, gossiping and laughing. Until – 

Harry sat up very suddenly, hitting his head hard against the table above. Sirius Black. They were talking about Sirius Black. He had been friends with Harry’s father. Not just friends by the sound of it, but best friends – inseparable. The more he listened, the more he frowned; and the more he learned, the more the fire inside him grew, burning brighter and hotter with hatred. He had been their friend and he had betrayed them. It was Sirius Black’s fault that his parents had been murdered. All those years of friendship, of trust, were now rendered meaningless because he had betrayed them. He had allowed Harry’s parents to be killed and then had even gone on to murder more innocent people. 

He was still frozen in place when the group had finished their drinks and were leaving. He didn’t move when Hermione and Ron’s faces appeared under the table, nor did not move when Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his arm. Only when they both opened their mouths to speak did he stir. Realising he didn’t want to hear anything they had to say, Harry scrambled out from under the table and ran to the door. Without a backwards glance to see if his friends were following him, he sprinted off up the street, through the trap door in Honeydukes, off up the tunnel, climbing through the witch’s hump back into Hogwarts. 

Harry’s thoughts were racing a mile a minute. How was this possible? Why had no one ever told him before? They’d said that Sirius Black was coming to murder him. But they had never said why. Didn’t they think Harry deserved to know? It was his right to know, dammit! He was so full of rage and hurt that he could barely put one foot in front of the other. So bad was his condition that he stumbled on his shaky legs, collapsing onto his knees in the middle of the corridor. 

“Potter? What the hell are you doing on the floor?” 

Of course. Of fucking course. How could his life get any worse? Draco Malfoy, that’s how. Draco Malfoy finding him on the verge of tears, kneeling on the cold corridor floor, completely alone. 

There was amusement in Draco’s voice making Harry wanted to punch him. Now was not the time. He had never wanted to be more alone than in that very moment yet here Draco was. And he appeared not to be in any hurry to leave. 

Gingerly, Harry got up off the floor. Shooting pains ran up and down his legs due to the fall so he propped himself up against the wall to give them some extra support. He kept his head bowed, not wanting Draco to see him in such a vulnerable and overemotional state. 

“Nothing,” mumbled Harry. “I fell.” 

His hushed tone had the opposite effect on what Harry desired. He’d hoped that being vague would make Draco realise he wasn’t wanted. Instead, however, he took a step closer, frowning. 

“What’s wrong with you? You’re shaking.” 

“I said nothing!” Harry cried. “I’m fine, Malfoy. Seriously. Just leave me alone.” 

Draco didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere. Look at you. You’re a mess. What the hell happened? What could possibility have gone so wrong in perfect little Harry Potter’s perfect little world?” His tone was a mixture of teasing and serious notes and was enough to drive Harry over the edge. 

“Try finding out that your parents’ best friend was the reason why they were murdered,” Harry spat. “Try finding out that they wouldn’t have died if their best friend hadn’t sold them out to Voldemort. Try finding out that the reason that your parents’ best friend has broken out of Azkaban is just to murder you because his master didn’t manage to finish off the job.” Harry stopped dead, panting, his cheeks flushed, his hair even more mussed than usual. 

Draco didn’t make a sound. Didn’t move. Barely even breathed. Harry noticed this strange behaviour straight away. Something clicked inside his head and, although everything was still a terrible mess, one thing was starting to make sense. 

“You knew.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Draco still asked, “Knew what?” His expression giving away nothing. 

“Don’t play dumb, Malfoy. You knew this whole time. I suppose your dad told you because he knows everything about everyone. That’s why you said all that stuff in potions about if you were me you’d want revenge. Well fuck you!” 

“Harry-“ 

“Don’t!” Harry roared causing Draco to take a step back in surprise. He had never seen Harry so angry before. “Just leave me alone.” 

“Look,” Draco said, not following Harry’s demand at all. “This isn’t my fault so don’t start screaming at me. Yes I knew about Black and yeah I didn’t tell you, but can you blame me? We’re not exactly best friends. These past few weeks are the only times we’ve ever had conversations were we’re civil to each other so don’t just expect me to share everything with you. Also, imagine if I had told you. You’d have probably punched me in the face and jinxed me until I wouldn’t even look like myself. Sorry you found out about everything Black did this way but it’s not my fault. I was only trying to help.” 

His speech was met with silence. Harry simply stared at the floor, his only movement being to scuff the toe of his shoe on the floor. After what felt like an eternity, the boy finally lifted his head. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled so quietly Draco almost missed it. 

Realising he wasn’t going to get much more out of Harry, Draco continued, “I understand why you don’t want to talk to me but go back to your common room and talk to your friends at least. I’m sure they’re worried about you.” A nod met his words. At least Harry was no longer screaming, Draco thought. That was certainly progress. “If you don’t get moving Potter, I will march you there myself.” 

The threat managed to get a feeble smile on Harry’s face. “I can just imagine the rumours that would fly if people saw Draco Malfoy holding my hand and dragging me off to my dormitory.” 

“No one mentioned holding hands,” Draco said quickly. 

“I’m kidding,” Harry laughed. “I can find my way back myself thanks.” 

Draco was saved from replying, which was good because he could think of nothing to say. Harry turned away from him and headed off down the corridor leaving Draco standing awkward and alone. Just before his messy black hair disappeared completely around the corner, Harry turned back. 

“Thank you, by the way,” he called. Then he disappeared out of sight. 

***** 

Despite appearing outwardly calm, Harry’s insides were still writhing. Talking to Draco had seemed to have exacerbated the issue because not only was Harry contending with murderous thoughts because Sirius Black still existed, while also battling sorrow and loss, he now had the additional problem of figuring out what the hell was wrong with Draco Malfoy. 

He was being far less problematic than usual, yet, in Harry’s opinion that made him all the more problematic. Why was he bringing Neville his dropped notes? Why was he seeking Harry out for private chats? Why was he comforting Harry in a corridor and offering to accompany him back to his common room? He’d known the boy for almost three years and he’d never been more stumped in his life. None of this was making any sense. 

The common room was thankfully quiet when he climbed through the portrait hole. Many students were still at dinner and, judging by the fact that they were not occupying their usual armchairs by the fire, Harry assumed that was where Ron and Hermione were. He was thankful really. Content enough to slip away to his dormitory, away from the usual stares, the warmth of the fire, up to his bed where he could rage in peace. 

Digging through his trunk, he pulled out the photo album that Hagrid had gifted him in his first year at Hogwarts. Flipping through the pages, trying desperately not to focus on the happy faces of his parents, he settled on a picture of their wedding day. There, standing beside his father, was Sirius Black. His grin looked genuine enough but now Harry knew the truth. He knew what those dark eyes were hiding. Malicious intent, betrayal. Murder. Harry slammed the album shut and shoved it roughly under his bed. 

He settled himself under his quilt and willed himself to fall asleep. His dreams were plagued by evil laughter, bright green flashes, faceless bodies littering the floor, a pair of silver grey eyes. When he awoke in the morning, he felt completely drained as though he hadn’t even slept at all. 

***** 

As summer was beginning to make itself known, so was exam stress. Every lesson culminated with a detailed reminder of why end of year examinations were vital to their future successes and how, if they didn’t get good grades now, there would be no hope for them when they finally faced their OWLs. Hermione was frantic. Harry and Ron had agreed that it was best to stop questioning her about how she managed to be taking nearly every class. They had their own problems anyway. Divination was a nightmare that just kept on getting worse. What with in depth descriptions of his death and the constant reminder that he was seeing the Grim wherever he went, Harry was starting to think that he might actually hate someone more than Snape. 

Seeming to have gotten through his ‘being civil to people’ phase, Draco Malfoy was becoming near insufferable. There was no denying he was intelligent. In almost every test he scored only a few marks off Hermione each time but, unlike Hermione who was far too invested in her grades to actually gloat about them, Draco was the polar opposite, taking every opportunity he could to remind everyone of his talents. 

It was on a particularly warm day that his annoying habits went too far. They’d just finished up another boring Care of Magical Creatures lesson, not that Harry, Ron and Hermione would ever admit it to Hagrid. The sun was blazing down, the grass soft and sweet-smelling beneath their feet, as they headed off back to the castle. Just as they were entering through the oak front doors did they hear it; the unmistakable sound of Malfoy’s cruel and unforgiving mouth. 

“He is the worst teacher to have ever happened to this school, if you can even call him a teacher at all. I mean I’m sure to pass my exams without a teacher but for the other poor souls that rely on him to teach them. Well they better prepare themselves to receive that Poor grade now because I doubt any of them will ever see an Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations.” Draco laughed. Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped dead with Draco only a few metres away. He hadn’t realised that they were there. “I mean, who in their right mind would hire such an oaf in the first place, let alone give him a class to teach. He’s a laughingstock and the sooner my father works on a way to get him fired the better.” 

Before Harry and Ron even knew what was happening Hermione was striding away from them. Her cheeks were flushed and her bushy hair flying as she threw herself towards Draco. Hearing her approach, he turned around in alarm, clearly not expecting to be suddenly face to face with a furious Gryffindor. 

There was no time for Draco to say anything or even try to defend himself before Hermione’s fist was smacking him in the face. He doubled over, clutching his nose and cursing violently. Crabbe and Goyle hovered awkwardly at his side, not knowing whether to say anything at all. The look on Hermione’s face sent them scurrying away towards their common room leaving Draco alone to face the three Gryffindors. 

“You need to learn to keep your mouth shut,” Hermione snapped at him, shaking with rage. 

Draco stared at her with wide eyes as blood dripped gently from his nose onto his white shirtfront. Words failed him. He didn’t even seem able to move a muscle. Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the blonde boy looking so vulnerable. It was a little unnerving. A feeling akin to pity arose in him but he stamped it down violently; Draco deserved that punch. 

A few moments more passed where Hermione continued to stare daggers at Draco. Then she turned on her heels and marched away with her head held high and Ron following a step behind her. Only when they were completely out of sight did Harry speak. 

“You did deserve it,” Harry said, earning him a muttered insult from Draco. 

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco replied, still trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. “If you are going to hit me too at least get on with it instead of keeping me waiting.” 

“I’m not going to hit you, idiot. That looks pretty bad.” He moved towards Draco but the other boy shifted away. “You need to tip your head back,” Harry insisted. “Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing.” 

“No!” 

“O...kay,” Harry said, surprised by the force of Draco’s declaration. “Fine then if you won’t go to Madam Pomfrey at least let me help you.” 

Draco considered the matter. He could go to the hospital wing, get patched up in seconds and go on with his day pretending nothing out of the ordinary happened. But then he would have to content with the Gryffindor taunts that he had to seek help for a bloodied nose. A bloodied nose caused by Hermione freaking Granger. No. That was out of the question. He would much rather walk around with a huge bruise on his face than get help from an adult. But he did need help because the bleeding didn’t seem to be slowing and, though he was loath to admit it, Harry appeared to know what he was talking about. 

A short nod from him was all Harry needed. They headed for the toilets on the ground floor, very much aware of the fact that this day was starting to mirror a day from a few months back. A traumatised Draco, a willing to help Harry, an empty bathroom. Life had the strange habit of recreating your worst days just so you could experience their awfulness once again. 

Maybe karma did exist, Draco wondered as he watched Harry grab a toilet roll from one of the stalls. 

“No way am I sitting on the floor again,” Draco said before Harry could say a word. 

“Fine then. Sit there,” Harry directed, gesturing to the marble surface between two sinks. 

Thankfully it was dry otherwise Draco would have told the other boy to shove it. He slid gracefully onto the surface and grabbed the handful of toilet paper that Harry offered him. As instructed, he cleaned up the blood as best he could with one hand while the other pinched his nose to stem the flow. 

Harry hovered awkwardly at his side. The bathroom was cold but because summer was rolling in he hadn’t picked up his jumper that morning, a move he was now coming to regret. If only Draco’s nose would stop bleeding. The more time Harry spent by his side, the bigger the excuse had to be as to why he hadn’t followed Ron and Hermione after the punching had occurred. He wasn’t even quite sure why he was still standing there beside his enemy but it just felt like that was where he needed to be. The punch had looked exceptionally painful and, though he was so glad he was there to witness it, his feelings of surprise and delight had been dulled somewhat by the unmistakable twinge of pity. 

Sudden movement beside Harry caused his train of thought to drift away as he once again focused on the boy next to him. The boy who was currently unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded. 

“Auditioning for the ballet, Potter. What does it look like I’m doing?” Draco replied. 

“But why...why are you-“ He trailed off as Draco finished with the buttons and tugged at the arms to pull it off. 

“Because it’s covered in blood thanks to your _friend_ and I really can’t go round with it like that.” 

“Do you carry a spare round in your bag or something?” Harry asked, determinedly staring in the opposite direction to Draco’s naked torso. 

The boy behind him laughed but still he did not turn. “Stop being such a prude. I’m sure you see enough topless males in your dormitory so I don’t see why this is any different.” There was a definite note of enjoyment in Draco’s voice as he goaded Harry. “And in answer to your question, no I don’t carry a spare in my bag but you seem to have forgotten the obvious fact which is that we are wizards. I can just clear this up by magic but I have to take my shirt off so that I can see the whole thing to make sure I get rid of all the blood.” 

Harry didn’t respond but continued to look anywhere in the room but at Draco. It felt weird that Draco was this comfortable to just whip his shirt off in front of just anyone. But was he just anyone? Was Harry really just a run of the mill kind of guy? For the first ten years of his life he’d believed himself mediocre at best but coming to Hogwarts had turned all thoughts of himself upside-down. Apparently he was a great wizard before he was out of nappies and since coming to Hogwarts he’d saved everyone from certain death twice. 

Then, Harry thought, did any of this matter to Draco? Was he affected by Harry’s fame in any way? Certainly through all his taunts and snide remarks, he had assumed the Slytherin was just being petty through jealousy. He pulled himself enough out of his thoughts to question why Draco’s behaviour bothered him so much. What was it about the blonde haired boy that got so under his skin? God, Harry so wished he had the answer but his mind was coming up blank. 

“You need new friends,” Draco said, not realising Harry was in an entire other dimension. “Seriously, how am I supposed to hide this?” He gestured angrily at his bruised nose. Thankfully when Harry turned round to look Draco had his shirt back on and it was now pearly white, looking as good as new. 

Harry pretended to examine the bruise closely. “Nah,” he replied. “I think I’ll keep my friends, Hermione did a great job.” 

“Shove off, Potter,” Draco snapped, but the slight smirk on his face gave him away. 

“Right, so you seem like yourself again which is my cue to leave.” 

Just as Harry was about to open the bathroom door Draco’s voice pulled him back. “Hey wait.” He turned round to face the Slytherin who was still leaning against a sink. 

“Yeah?” Harry called. 

Draco opened his mouth to say something, frowned, then shook his head. “Nothing.” He paused then said, “Thanks,” nodding at Harry and giving him a brief smile. 

***** 

Draco was an idiot. A super-massive idiot. He was the biggest idiot in all the history of the world, in every sense of the word, he was it. Since the boggart incident Draco had doubted his life could get any worse but oh boy had he been proved wrong. 

His reputation was beginning to falter after that impulse move to give Longbottom back his notes. Surely his dad would find out he was gay before too long. Everyone in the school knew by now so it would hardly be surprising if this news had travelled beyond the walls of Hogwarts. Another heavy blow to his reputation had come at the hands of Hermione Granger who had punched him in the face. Just prior to that incident he had comforted Harry Potter and offered to walk him back to his common room. And to add insult to injury Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin in the Quidditch final. 

Really. How could life get any worse? 

Perhaps discovering you have an extremely inappropriate crush on your enemy. That definitely isn’t a good thing, Draco thought to himself as the Hogwarts express rattled away from the station towards its southern destination. Out of all the ways his life could get any worse, this was definitely it. Even if hell did freeze over, Harry would still never look twice at Draco in any way other than with contempt. 

After first realising his disastrous crush on the boy, Draco had allowed himself to be deluded into believing that Harry might reciprocate his feelings. He had chosen to follow Draco after the boggart incident and even helped him when Draco had been too afraid to open the letter from his mother. Harry had allowed Draco to stay with him and offer him comfort when he had found out that Sirius Black was his godfather and the reason for his parents’ deaths. Your enemy didn’t usually do things like that. Did they? 

Harry Potter wasn’t exactly conventional though so perhaps him being civil to Draco was just another one of his strange quirks. Another way to throw Draco off completely so he would never quite be able to work out the other boy’s mind. Yes, that seemed the far likelier solution. Harry did not have feelings for Draco. He was just a kind person. He’d simply taken pity on Draco and on a whim decided to help him. That was it. End of discussion. 

But Draco so so wished it wasn’t the end. He rested his head on the train window and sighed heavily as he watched the scenery whip past. Yellow fields, blue sky, wispy clouds, busy cities. Far away from Hogwarts, away from his sanctuary, away from everything he knew and loved. Away from Harry. For roughly two months at least. 

That was plenty of time to get over his stupid crush. Right?


	2. Fourth Year Part One - A Mistake and Heartbreak

After finally admitting to himself that he had a rather sizable crush on his enemy, Draco Malfoy really didn’t have the best start to his summer holiday. He spent days upon days lying on his bed in his family’s mansion, listening to the trees whispering in the breeze, willing his feelings away. Why did this have to have happened? Harry freaking Potter of all people. Draco wanted to punch both Harry and himself in the face. Maybe a punch to the face would make Harry look a little less perfect and maybe, just maybe, Draco could convince himself that the boy was actually really ugly and then he would be able to move on with his life. 

Summer wasn’t all bad though. For one thing Draco’s mum had sought him out in his bedroom on the second day of the holiday to tell him that she loved him and was very proud of him. Though she had sent the letter saying that she accepted him, Draco still hadn’t been sure how far her acceptance stretched. But now it was clear that she thought no less of him at all, her only concern being that of his father. Draco was ninety-nine percent sure that Lucius Malfoy would not react in such a positive way upon discovering that his only son was gay. 

The other reason why the summer wasn’t going to be a total train wreck was because his father had gotten them all tickets to the Quidditch World Cup final. Not only did they have tickets, but said tickets were for seats in the top box – the best seats in the stadium. Even in his sad and sorry state Draco couldn’t stop a smile creeping onto his face every time he thought about it. Bulgaria versus Ireland. The final was sure to be explosive. 

The day of the final dawned cloudless and warm, not that anyone really cared about the weather. All anyone really cared about was the sun setting because, when it did, the gong would sound signalling that the final was soon to begin. But despite the charged atmosphere and multitude of people coming over to talk to his family, the hours dragged by with the gong going off after what felt like centuries. 

Being a Malfoy had its perks. As Draco entered the top box he really didn’t think his day could get much better. Great food, great company, great atmosphere, great seats, great Quidditch. What more could anyone ask for? Then he caught sight of him and his stomach gave a lurch. 

Harry Potter was sitting in the front row of the top box surrounded by an excessive number of ginger haired people, and Hermione Granger. Draco felt his heart contract as the raven, messy haired boy turned and met his eye. So much for getting over his crush. Clearly laying on his bed for hours on end wallowing in self pity had not been enough to get rid of his stupid, irrational feelings. 

There wasn’t anything he could do now, Draco thought, as he was ushered forward by his parents who became engaged in a lengthy discussion with the Minister of Magic before taking their seats either side of him. Luckily for him his seat was not directly behind Harry meaning he didn’t have the distraction of the back of the boy’s head to worry about. 

The match started soon after and thankfully all thoughts of Harry Potter were driven far from his mind as the Quaffle was tossed into the air and the frantic search for the snitch began. The game lived up to all expectations. Words failed to convey just how amazing it was. And when the players filed into the top box for their congratulations – or in the case of Bulgaria, customary commiserations – the whole stadium erupted into applause and deafening cheers. 

The day took a turn for the worst when his father disappeared, evading all questions as to his destination with vague answers and deflecting comments about how fantastic the final match had been. Draco and his mother were no fools. They knew he wasn’t telling them the truth because he was likely about to do something very wrong and, most likely, very stupid. 

It didn’t take long for them to be proved quite right. As hooded figures marched through the camp, setting tents alight and levitating a family of muggles upside-down, Draco and his mother fled into the forest but soon lost each other in the confused tangle of bodies. He entered into a clearing, quite alone in the darkness. 

“This is ridiculous, I can’t see a thing,” a familiar voice spoke through the night, startling Draco though he acted fast to hide his surprise. “Lumos!” The clearing was suddenly bathed in white light, illuminating three figures including the one that had spoken, Hermione Granger. 

They all started at the sight of Draco leaning against a tree, not recognising him for a moment because he still lingered in the shadows. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” Ron said, lowering his wand and turning away, clearly not deeming him a threat. 

“You should watch yourselves. Especially if you keep company like _her_ ,” Draco said coolly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron spat. 

“Well,” Draco drawled, pushing away from the tree and stepping into the centre of the clearing where the trio were gathered. “She’s a mudblood and, though I know your brain is small, even you must have realised that they’re only targeting muggles.” 

Harry stepped forward, his expression furious. “Hermione’s a witch!” Draco took a moment to swallow. He hadn’t been this close to the wizard for months, not since Harry had aided him with his bleeding nose. There were subtle changes to his appearance that Draco noted now. How he had grown a few centimetres over summer so Draco no longer felt like he towered over him. How his hair has been cut - though it had failed to neaten his unruly locks. He knew he was staring and he had to forcibly remove his gaze from the boy’s face before he noticed. 

“Do what you want. But if you think they can’t spot a mudblood-“ 

He was cut off by a shout from Ron. “Shut your mouth!” He roared, appearing ready to launch himself at Draco. 

“Let’s go,” Hermione cut in. She grabbed hold of Ron’s arm and began to drag him across the clearing, ignoring Draco’s smirk. Harry followed behind them, throwing the blonde wizard one final disgusted look. 

As they disappeared out of sight all Draco could think about was how messed up his entire life was and how it probably wasn’t likely to improve this coming school year. Harry didn’t like him in any way, shape or form. That was clear from his expression just a moment ago. Their third year at Hogwarts had been turbulent for them but those rare moments of calm by no means meant that Harry felt the same way. He was simply a nice person. That was it. End of discussion. 

In the darkness Draco decided that he would not let his feelings get in the way this year. The civility between himself and Harry was past. It was over. It was time to move on. 

But that was far easier said than done. 

***** 

The Quidditch World Cup had been a wild ride from start to finish in Harry’s opinion. Ireland had won the most dramatic, action filled game he’d ever witnessed and that had been more than enough to satisfy Harry. Apparently it wasn’t enough to satisfy everyone, however, because as midnight struck a riot broke out which culminated in Lord Voldemort’s infamous Dark Mark being shot into the sky and the whole fiasco being blamed on an innocent house-elf. 

As the Hogwarts Express rattled into Hogsmeade Station, Harry prayed that this year would be different. That there would be no near death experiences, that there would be no extraordinary drama. He almost laughed at himself for that thought. Hogwarts and drama were basically synonyms. A year at Hogwarts without drama was as likely as Hagrid becoming the Minister of Magic. 

It was with rising anxiety that all the students listened to Dumbledore’s first speech of the year. They had just gorged themselves on the most exquisite of dishes and were full enough to be craving their dormitories and the warm beds awaiting them. But Dumbledore had risen to his feet delivering the message that Quidditch was to be cancelled that school year. This caused outrage. Many students, including Fred and George Weasley, rose to their feet and began to shout complaints at the Headmaster while the rest of the hall muttered about the possible reasons for this announcement. 

Dumbledore restored calm with ease by declaring that the Triwizard Cup would be taking place at Hogwarts that year. The immediate reaction was one of excitement, with a dash of confusion from the muggleborns. However a spanner was thrown in the works by Dumbledore adding that no one under the age of seventeen would be allowed to enter their names for nomination. 

“If Fred and George find a way to enter the tournament do you think you’ll go for it?” Ron asked Harry later in their dormitory as they changed into their pyjamas. 

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied, allowing himself a moment to indulge in the glory he would feel if he won. “It would be pretty great, I suppose.” 

“A thousand Galleons prize money,” Ron sighed, reclining on his bed to stare dreamily at the canopy above. He turned over and looked at his best friend. “If Fred and George do manage it I might go for it. You never know unless you try, do you?” 

“No you don’t,” was the sleepy reply. 

It didn’t take long for them both to fall into a deep sleep. The excitement of being back at Hogwarts and the announcement that the Triwizard Cup would be taking place that year was almost too much to take and had exhausted them. As Harry slipped further into unconsciousness, the image of himself winning the tournament materialised before him. Smiling to himself, he rolled over in bed and dropped off into a dreamless sleep. 

***** 

“I heard that Cedric Diggory was entering.” 

“What?” cried Ron. “That idiot Hogwarts champion?” 

“He’s not an idiot,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “You just don’t like him because he once beat Gryffindor at Quidditch.” 

Ron opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as Harry joined them at the dinner table. Currently the tables were empty but they all knew that as soon as all the teachers and students were seated their dishes would be heaving with the most delicious foods. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, led by their respective Headmaster and Headmistress, swept into the hall with the Beauxbatons joining the Ravenclaws and the Durmstrang seating themselves at the Slytherin table (much to Ron’s displeasure). 

“Warrington put his name in the goblet of fire last night, I heard a couple of Slytherins talking about it on the way in,” Harry said. 

“Well we can’t have a Slytherin champion!” Ron nearly shouted, completely outraged just by the thought. “I’d even choose pretty boy Diggory over him.” 

Harry laughed and even Hermione couldn’t stop a small smile at his words. 

“Oh and you think you could do a better job?” 

At the familiar drawl the trio whipped around to see Draco Malfoy passing their table with his usual wingmen Crabbe and Goyle in tow. He stood as proud as ever, back straight, robes pressed to perfection, hair pushed back, a slight smirk on his thin face. To Harry he always had the air of someone concealing something. The small turn of the corner of his lips and his sparkling grey eyes drew you in so much so quickly until suddenly you felt as though you were slamming into a brick wall and all the secrets promised to you were safely hidden away on the other side. Harry both hated and marvelled at the ability. 

“Shove off Malfoy, no one was talking to you.” 

“Weasel’s feeling feisty today,” Draco laughed, echoed by Crabbe and Goyle’s guffaws. “Are you just upset that the possibility of that much gold has been snatched away from you. Do you even remember what a galleon looks like?” 

Clearly he had gone too far with this little jibe because Ron jumped to his feet looking ready to fly at Malfoy. His face had flushed a deep red, his hands clenched into tight fists and his whole body was shaking. Luckily Harry stepped in before he could take a swing at Malfoy. He grabbed hold of Ron’s elbow and dragged him back down into his seat. 

“You heard him Malfoy, shove off!” Harry said, looking almost as angry as Ron. 

Draco drew his eyes away from the amusing sight of a furious Ron to focus instead on Harry. He stared at him for a few seconds before turning on his heels and heading off towards the Slytherin table, followed closely by his two cronies. 

It took a while for Ron to calm down enough to utter a word that wasn’t a swear or a threat on Draco’s life. Harry and Hermione made a silent agreement not to mention the previous conversation but instead took it upon themselves to distract their friend by drawing his attention to the new arrivals at the staff table. Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch had just strolled into the hall through a door at the back of the hall, the first all smiles and waves and the latter unwavering in his reserved demeanour. 

Everything happened in a blur after that. Everyone was seated and the feast began with everyone being famished from a day of lessons and excitement over finally finding out who the champions competing in the tournament would be. Dinner seemed to take no time at all and soon the dessert platters were once again spotlessly clean, not a crumb or smear of icing left. 

The goblet of fire was carried in from the Great Hall while Dumbledore explained again what the tournament entailed and the expectations of a champion, however, this version of his speech was far shorter. Everyone was relieved by this as they were all far too eager to know who the champions would be to listen to a word Dumbledore had to say. 

Their wishes were soon granted as the flames inside the cup flashed red and a charred scrap of paper fluttered into Dumbledore’s waiting hand. 

“The champion for Durmstrang,” Dumbledore roared. “Is Victor Krum!” 

The hall erupted into cheers and yells as the world famous Quidditch player got to his feet. He walked up between the tables to accept the piece of paper declaring his name and a congratulatory handshake from the Hogwarts headmaster. Then he disappeared into a side room to await further instruction. 

“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!” 

This announcement was nearly drowned out by the uproar it caused as the beautiful young woman made her way towards Dumbledore. As she walked, boys and girls alike got to their feet just to get a better look at her. She accepted her slip of paper and the handshake with a gracious smile. Just before she disappeared through the door to join Victor Krum she turned and gave a graceful bow to the hall which began another booming round of applause and more cheering. 

Then, as realisation sunk in over which schools’ champion was being chosen next, the hall fell deathly quiet. They all watched with bated breath as, for the last time, the flames turned scarlet. Dumbledore caught the piece of paper as it floated down and, with a smile on his face, he revealed who the third champion was. 

“The champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory.” 

And so followed the loudest cheer of all as the Hufflepuff Quidditch player got up to join his fellow competitors. Sure Harry would have preferred Angelina Johnson or another Gryffindor to be Hogwarts champion, but the expressions of joy and admiration on every single Hufflepuff’s face was enough to make him not feel bitter. Only on the rarest of occasions had Hufflepuff received any sort of glory. Now was their time and they wouldn’t let anyone take that away. 

After allowing the students to bask in the excitement that the champions had now been selected, Dumbledore called them all to order to give some final notices. As he was speaking, however, the flames within the Goblet of Fire began to rise again. The hall watched in confusion and wonder as a fourth scrap of parchment fluttered into the headmaster’s waiting hand. 

He called out the two words scribbled down. 

“Harry Potter.” 

***** 

He was exhausted and frankly could not wait to crawl into his waiting bed. But then the Goblet of Fire spat out a fourth name and now Draco Malfoy was wide awake. 

Every eye in the room was focussed on the black haired boy with his circular glasses and lightning bolt scar. He seemed to be making the vain attempt to ignore all the people staring at him as he made his way to the teachers’ table where Dumbledore waited. Without a word, the headmaster directed him through to the backroom where the other champions were waiting. As he disappeared through the door a low hiss began as everyone hurried to discuss this shocking development. 

Instead of showing any concern for him, Draco was forced to act indignant and angry along with the rest of the Slytherins so as not to attract suspicion. In reality, however, his insides were writhing. His father had explained to him in great length about previous Triwizard Tournaments and the injuries that befell the unwitting champions as they faced the most dangerous of tasks. Harry was much too young to be competing. Surely the Ministry of Magic or Dumbledore would step in arguing that it was a glitch; an unusual occurrence to be ignored. And dammit Draco had sworn that he was going to try and forget his feelings this year, push the stupid Gryffindor hero right out of his head. But that was not going to happen now. Not when his life was in danger yet again. 

Professor McGonagall dismissed the students back to their common rooms. Most were on their feet already, hurrying to and fro trying to talk to as many people as possible about the recent events. In all the commotion Draco managed to hang back, breaking away from Crabbe and Goyle, sinking backwards into the crowd where he was soon swallowed up. 

It was almost an hour before the champions were released from their chamber. Fleur hurried along at Madame Maxime’s side, all the while gushing furious French. Karkaroff stalked through the entrance hall with Krum at his heels, neither looking too pleased. Draco shrank further into his hiding place as the last two appeared. 

“So really, how did you put your name in the Goblet?” Cedric asked, brow furrowed. 

“I didn’t!” Harry insisted. “I didn’t lie back there. I didn’t put my name in but I have no idea who did.” 

“If you say so,” Cedric said, not looking at all as though he believed him. 

Harry, appearing to have reached the end of his tether, grabbed Cedric’s arm to pull him back. They were now standing opposite each other, about a foot apart. Tall and short. One muscled, the other rather skinny. 

“I. Didn’t. Put. My. Name. In. That. Goblet,” Harry said, eyes flashing in frustration. “You have to believe me,” he implored. 

“Why does it mean so much to you what I think?” 

At that Harry faltered and Draco could have sworn his saw the boy’s cheeks flush a faint crimson. “It doesn’t, it just. Nevermind,” Harry mumbled. “Look, I’ll see you around.” And he turned on his heels and disappeared up the staircase, sparing one final glance to see Cedric disappear down the stairs to his own common room. 

As the scene before him concluded, Draco sagged back against the pillar he had been hiding against. Well fuck. Now there was another reason why the unlikely was now impossible. Harry liked Cedric. There was no denying that fact. It was as plain as day when they interacted. Harry could barely maintain eye contact with him. 

Draco let out a low groan of despair. This year was just going from bad to worse. 

***** 

And life didn’t seem much like wanting to improve. Through spite Draco had created a selection of badges promoting Cedric Diggory as champion which, when pressed, spelled out the words ‘Potter stinks.’ Though Draco was in no mood to be supporting Diggory either, he still had a reputation to maintain and supporting the Hufflepuff as the real Hogwarts champion would not raise suspicions. 

The days passed by quickly in the lead up to the first task and, sure enough, before any of them were actually ready for the drama ahead, the day of the task was dawning. Lessons were to end at midday although it would have been much smarter to have not had any lessons at all. The students were hardly attentive. All any of them could talk about was the first task. What would it be? Would it really be that dangerous? Who would fair the best and who would crumble under the pressure? No one had the answers which made the whole situation far more exciting. 

Then Professor McGonagall was gently laying a hand on Harry Potter’s shoulder and the dining hall went deathly quiet because it was time for the first task. Draco strained to catch a glimpse of the boy’s face as he was guided out of the castle but the crowd was too thick so he shrank back down and just prayed that Harry would be okay. He wished he could be there to comfort him, to even just get close enough to speak to him. But that wasn’t going to happen. And, anyway, Diggory would be waiting in the tent with him and Draco was sure that his presence would cheer Harry up far more than his own. 

Witnessing the first task was one of the most painful experiences of his life to date. Draco was on the edge of his seat, much like the rest of the spectators, as Harry swerved and dodged the dragon, using his quick reflexes he’d developed from years of Quidditch to his advantage. He scooped up the golden egg in no time although to Draco it felt like an eternity. At one point the tail of the beast whipped around too fast for Harry to avoid leaving him with a long slash down his arm. The task was over soon after and the Slytherin could finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

Despite wanting to avoid the boy as much as possible, Draco couldn’t help but seeking him out after he had left the medical tent and was on his way back up to the castle accompanied, as usual, by Ron and Hermione. 

“I’m surprised you held it together so well today out there Potter. I expected to see more scars than the one on your forehead,” Draco said, swaggering up behind the trio, working hard to maintain a persona of nonchalance. 

“Shove off Malfoy,” Ron cut in. 

“So the hero has his sidekick back? Did you get too warm without the shadow of your friend to sit under?” 

Ron’s face flushed crimson while Harry and Hermione looked mutinous. Draco knew that insulting Harry’s friends wasn’t the best way to know if he was okay but there really was no alternative. The only time they had ever engaged in real, non-confrontational conversations they had always been alone. 

“And where are your friends, or rather your bodyguards? It’s hard to believe anyone would want to be real friends with someone so horribly cruel,” Hermione snapped. 

“Harsh words, Granger.” He shrugged off the insult without much effort. “Now, though taunting you all seems like a lot of fun, I have other places to be.” 

Draco marched away from the trio, careful not to glance back even when he heard the three begin insulting him without mercy. To be honest he did deserve it. But, he thought as he took the front steps two at a time, at least he had spoken to Harry and knew that he was at least mostly alright. 

***** 

Apparently life was still to get worse for Draco Malfoy. Two events in particular made it near unbearable. The first of which involved him being so utterly humiliated in front of Harry that he doubted he would ever be able to step foot back in the grounds of Hogwarts. 

It was just after dinner when he thought it would be a good idea to start a little drama. The whole situation escalated entirely too quickly until it was completely out of control and Draco found himself drawing his wand out as the raven-haired Gryffindor turned to leave. In a split second that resounded like the shot of a gun, he found himself transfigured into a white ferret. 

The entrance hall rang with laughter as the poor defenceless Draco-ferret was bounced up and down by none other than Mad-Eye Moody, the deranged Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Only with a well-timed appearance of Professor McGonagall did the torture end and he was turned back into a human. 

As Draco turned to survey the hall, the only face he could focus on was Harry Potter’s. So full of laughter and joy at seeing Draco’s suffering, at seeing him humiliated in front of so many people. Without another word or a backwards glance to Harry or either of his professors, he stalked off towards the Slytherin common room throwing anyone who got in his way a look that could easily have turned them to stone. 

The second of the two events was something that didn’t even happen directly to Draco. No one in fact knew that he knew. It was by complete accident that he overheard the conversation. A conversation that made him want to rip his own ears off just to guarantee that he would never have to hear anything about it ever again. 

On a particularly windy day in mid-December he had decided to take a lonely trip down to the Quidditch pitch. He missed the way all his troubles seemed to be brushed away as soon as he kicked off from the ground, soaring into the air, into complete weightlessness. Just another thing on the list that made him detest the Triwizard Tournament, the lack of Quidditch. 

It was after this wonderfully freeing flying session, as Draco was mounting the front steps leading up to the oak front doors, that he heard them. One of the front doors had been left ajar by a careless student and, just before Draco barged through, he caught the sound of two familiar voices. 

“You wanted to talk to me?” Cedric asked. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. There was the shuffle of feet and the rustle of clothes as he fidgeted from foot to foot. “I wanted to ask you something...D’you want to go ball w’me?” he said in a rush. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Cedric questioned. 

“Do you want to go to the ball with me?” Harry said, this time much slower. 

The Hufflepuff champion huffed a laugh. “Are you serious?” 

“I knew I shouldn’t have asked, just forget it.” There followed footsteps as Harry attempted to make a quick getaway across the entrance hall. 

Much to Draco’s despair, more footsteps followed Harry and then a scuffle as Cedric held onto the other boy’s arm, pulling him back to face him. 

“Wait, Harry! I only asked because I was surprised is all. I would love to go to the ball with you.” 

In that moment Draco could only imagine the massive smile that would have spread across Harry’s face. It made him feel sick. Thank everything magical that the pair separated soon after so that Draco was able to slip through the entrance hall towards his common room and, thankfully, his bed. There he was able to draw the hangings on his four-poster and bury his head into his pillows. At least then no one could hear his screaming. Could this year really get much worse? 

***** 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what had caused it but Draco’s mood had dropped dramatically. Any chance he got he would flash Rita Skeeter’s new article at him, taking vindictive pleasure from the laughs and catcalls that followed Harry as he walked away. It was such a sudden change in character that he was sure something had caused it. Not that Draco had ever been particularly nice to Harry but, since their strange moments of reconciliation in third year, his apparent hatred towards Harry had petered out into mild indifference. Now, however, his spitefulness was reaching new heights and Harry could not for the life of him work out why. 

Not that he was letting it get him down too much. Not after he had successfully asked Cedric Diggory to the Yule Ball. Nothing, not even Draco’s snide comments and taunts, could wipe the smile off his face in the last few days before Christmas as the date drew closer to the time when they would be going to the ball together. The only anxiety that hung like a dead weight in his chest was the thought of dancing. It wasn’t even the crowd that bothered him. He’d caught the snitch more times than he could count in front of a packed stadium and he had, only a few weeks ago, successfully snatched the golden egg out from under a dragon’s nose. No. His real fear came from the thought that he was an absolutely terrible dancer. Well as far as he knew he was. The Dursley’s had never really given him much chance to practice, or even learn at all, while growing up. 

He’d hardly had a chance to speak to Cedric since he asked him to the Ball which also made the situation worse. Every night he found himself lying awake in bed having nightmarish visions of Cedric being a fantastic dancer. Harry would follow him onto the dance floor but catch his foot and go tumbling to the ground as the hall erupted in laughter. Smiling sheepishly, Cedric then would drag him to his feet and they would begin to dance. Usually then would be the point that Harry would either fall down again or else break out some appalling dance moves. The dance always culminated with a shake of the head from his partner before the beautiful blonde Hufflepuff headed off into the crowd to find himself a new, adept partner. 

The night of the Ball came round far sooner than most of the boys would have liked. They found themselves in their dormitory, pulling on their robes, and trying not to draw attention to themselves as they examined themselves in the mirror. On the whole Harry didn’t think he looked too bad as he left the common room to meet Cedric in the entrance hall. Ron, on the other hand, was having great trouble with his lacy, hand-me-down robes and Harry really couldn’t blame him. Their resemblance to a dress was uncanny. 

The entrance hall was packed. Everyone was shuffling this way and that, constantly moving as people attempted to find their partners in the crowd. As he began to descend the staircase, Harry caught Draco’s eye as he walked up the steps leading to the dungeons. They shared a brief look before Draco looked away, walking swiftly away until he was lost in the throng of people. In the short time they stared at each other Harry couldn’t help but think how good the Slytherin looked in his dark green robes which contrasted brilliantly with his pale grey eyes and silver blonde hair. 

In the end the dancing really wasn’t as bad as he had been expecting. Cedric had met him at the bottom of the staircase and they were soon whisked away into the great hall where they were directed to the dance floor in the centre. Being the taller of them both, Cedric took lead of the dance as they revolved slowly on the spot in time to the music. Occasionally Harry would find himself being spun and once or twice almost lost his balance. But really he didn’t mind so much, not when Cedric drew him back in against his chest and tightened his grip on Harry’s waist. 

“Go talk to her. I need some air anyway,” Harry said, still rather breathless from all the dancing. 

“Are you sure?” Cedric asked, glancing once again over to the Ravenclaw Quidditch player Cho Chang who was sitting by herself at one of the many tables. 

“Yeah it’s fine. I’ll come and find you in a bit and we can get drinks.” 

Cedric smiled at him then placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before turning away to the lonely girl a few metres away. Cheeks burning, Harry headed out of the great hall and into the grotto that had been set up outside the oak front doors. He walked for a bit, enjoying the cool air on his warm skin. He came to a bench and took a seat on the cold stone, staring up at the sky dotted with stars. 

“Lost loverboy already? You didn’t hold onto him for long.” 

“Is your life so boring that you have to constantly make comments on other peoples’, Malfoy?” Harry retaliated. 

Draco stepped out of the shadows of the path to stand opposite Harry. His silver hair and pale skin reflected the moonlight giving him an almost ethereal glow. 

“I saw him talking to that Chang girl in there. She’s rather pretty don’t you think. If I was you I’d be worried he’d gotten bored and swapped me in already,” Draco said, ignoring the question. 

“Shut up will you!” Harry snapped, quickly losing his patience. 

“Touched a nerve did I. Did you think that because you are the golden boy that everyone will fall at your feet, that someone will always want you?” 

He was being deliberately cruel but Harry didn’t quite know why. Maybe it was the same thing that had put him in such a mood over the last few weeks. 

“Why do you care so much?” 

“Who said I cared at all?” Draco answered, examining his nails with feigned interest. 

“Because there’s clearly something up with you. You’ve been acting very cold recently, more cold than normal. On the night of the biggest social event of the year you came without a partner and aren’t being followed around by your usual cronies. You seem far too interested in my relationship with Cedric. And you’re currently pretending to look at your nails when really you’re using them as an excuse to avoid this conversation.” 

Only after he finished his speech did Harry realise that he now looked like he cared for Draco because he had noticed all these things about him. Well that was a door to be opened and explored another day, he thought. 

“Touché,” the Slytherin replied with a reluctant smile. “And in all your observations did you realise that my change in behaviour coincided with you asking Diggory to the ball?” 

Harry thought for a moment and realised Draco was right. But what did that mean? Why was he so invested in Harry’s relationships? 

“Malfoy, seriously, why are you so bothered by this?” 

“Are you really that thick? Have you got absolutely no clue why I would be bothered by you dating somebody else?” 

Again Harry spent a few seconds thinking over what had just been said. And then it hit him like a ten tonne brick. Malfoy liked him. Maybe even more than liked him. Malfoy was so bothered by Harry dating Cedric Diggory because he had a crush on Harry. Because he was jealous. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. 

“And he finally gets it,” Draco said, throwing his arms up in celebration. 

“B-but,” Harry stumbled over his words. “How long?” He finally managed to say. 

“Does it really matter? You clearly don’t feel the same way so...” 

“Who said I- Oh right. Cedric.” 

For a moment a shining ray of hope had broken through into Draco’s realm of sadness but it was snatched away just as quickly. “Yes, Cedric Diggory. Your boyfriend. The one you invited to the Yule Ball. The one you should really go and find right now.” 

He didn’t know why he felt like he had to justify himself to Draco but something inside himself was telling him that he needed to. That he wanted to. He needed Draco to understand, to not look so terribly sad anymore. It hurt Harry to see him like this. 

“Whatever Potter, I’m not really in the mood to listen to this right now. Go back and have fun. Find Diggory and be happy.” 

Feeling as though he was being dismissed, Harry moved to leave, but the expression on Draco’s face stopped him. There was something so completely broken about him. 

“Look, I am sorry.” Draco snorted at that. “Really I am! I know we don’t really get on but we’ve had our moments and I’m sorry that this is hurting you and that you feel this way in the first place. And you don’t have to worry because I won’t tell anyone. After Christmas we can go straight back to insulting each other and no one will ever know.” 

Harry really hoped his words had offered some comfort to the Slytherin but he really wasn’t so sure. As he walked away from the bench, he saw out of the corner of his eye Draco move forward and collapse into Harry’s vacated seat. He wanted to go back and say something else but he really couldn’t think of anything to say at all. 

He walked slowly back through the entrance hall. At the door to the great hall he paused. There was Hermione dancing away with Krum while Ron brooded from the sidelines. There was Cedric still talking with Chang. They were both smiling, clearly enjoying themselves, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to cut into their conversation. With a sigh, he turned away and headed off up the marble staircase towards his bed and hopefully a peaceful night’s sleep away from his racing thoughts.


End file.
